Chapte 21: Cruel Goblin
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"I hear something. Crying. Someone's crying."
Bart tensed, his axe raised, the blade glinting, and Mimi's Light Weave flared bright, the blue orb shooting forward, a star in the dark, and it lit the lower chamber, and what they saw made Hannah's blood run cold, made the golden mana in her chest roar to life, made Ren's growl turn into a snarl, loud and sharp, in her skull.
The chamber was a cave, its walls lined with rusted iron chains bolted into the stone, the metal corroded and stained black with old blood, the stone floor soaked in blood and urine and something that reeked of rot and decay, the kind of stench that clung to your lungs and wouldn't let go.
Tied to the chains were three young women—adventurers, their guild crests torn from their armor, their clothes shredded to rags, their skin covered in cuts and bruises and bite marks, their hair matted with blood and dirt and goblin musk.
Their hands were bound behind their backs with rough hemp rope, frayed and stained, their mouths gagged with ragged cloth torn from their own tunics, their eyes wide and terrified, tears streaming down their faces, carving clean paths through the grime on their cheeks.
They were young—eighteen, nineteen, twenty at the most—their bodies trembling, their shoulders hunched, the kind of fear that wasn't just for themselves, but for what the monsters would do next, the kind of fear that breaks a person, that leaves them hollow and empty, that makes them beg for death to end the pain.
And surrounding them, circling them like vultures around a corpse, were goblins—not the scrawny skirmishers they'd fought earlier, but bigger, stronger ones, their skin black with dirt and blood, their eyes glowing red, their hands holding whips and knives and rusted pliers,
the kind of tools that weren't for killing. For torturing. For playing.
The goblins cackled, high and shrill, as they snapped the whips at the women's legs, the leather biting into their skin, leaving red, raised welts that split open and bled, as they prodded them with the knives,
the tip breaking the skin, drawing small trickles of blood, as they laughed at their screams, muffled by the gags, at their tears, at their terror, at their helplessness.
One goblin—bigger than the rest, a chief, its head adorned with a crown of wolf bones and goblin teeth, its body covered in crude tattoos of blood and fire—stepped forward,
a rusted blade in its hand, the metal dull and stained, and it raised it to the throat of the youngest girl, a blonde with wide, blue eyes, her face pale as bone, her body shaking so hard Hannah could see it from across the chamber, her tears falling to the stone floor with a soft plop.
This was cruelty. This was evil. This was the kind of thing that made the world feel cold and empty, the kind of thing that made you wonder if the light was ever worth fighting for.
But it also made Hannah's blood boil, made her grip her dagger so tight her knuckles turned white, made the golden mana in her chest surge, a wild fire, a storm, a promise of death to anyone who hurt the innocent, who preys on the weak, who takes joy in pain.
Ren's snarl was loud in her skull, a roar that shook her bones,
'Kill them all. Tear them apart. Make them pay.'
The goblins hadn't seen them yet. They were too focused on their toys, too busy laughing, too busy inflicting pain, too busy revelling in their cruelty to notice the four adventurers standing in the entrance to the cave,
their weapons raised, their magic glowing, their faces cold with rage, with grief, with the kind of fury that makes ordinary people do extraordinary things, that makes fighters into avengers.
Bart's jaw was tight, his axe shaking in his hand, his knuckles white, and Mike's bowstring was drawn tight, an arrow nocked, his eyes fixed on the goblin chief, his finger hovering over the trigger, his face hard and cold, no trace of the tired man from moments before.
Mimi's staff glowed bright blue, her Light Weave exploding into an orb that lit the entire cave, every shadow chased away, every goblin revealed, and she chanted an incantation, her voice loud and clear, unshaken, Ignis Flicker, a small fireball blooming at the tip of her staff, blue and bright, ready to fly, ready to burn.
Hannah stood at the front, her dagger in one hand, her free hand glowing with golden light, a Spark of Light coiled tight in her palm, bright and hot, ready to strike.
Her eyes were fixed on the goblin chief, on the blade at the blonde girl's throat, on the fear in her eyes, on the way she squeezed them shut, like she was praying for it to be over, for the pain to stop.
She didn't think. She didn't hesitate. She moved.
Fast. Faster than she'd ever moved before. A fighter's speed, a mage's power, a hunter's precision, all merged into one, all driven by rage and grief and the need to protect, to save, to make the cruelty stop.
She lunged forward, the golden mana roaring through her veins, a river of fire, and she let out a scream, loud and sharp, a battle cry that cut through the goblins' cackles, that made them spin around, their eyes wide with surprise, with fear, with the sudden realization that their prey was not as helpless as they thought, that their fun was over.
The goblin chief's blade faltered at the blonde girl's throat, the tip slipping an inch to the side, and that was all Hannah needed.
She flicked her wrist, and the golden Spark of Light shot forward, hitting the goblin chief in the eye, the bright bolt burning through the socket, searing the flesh and bone,
the creature letting out a shrill, agonized scream, dropping the blade, clutching its eye with both hands, blood pouring through its fingers, thick and red, soaking its ragged tunic.
Hannah closed the distance in three steps, her dagger raised, the steel glinting with golden light, and she drove it into the goblin chief's chest, right where its heart should be,
the golden mana exploding out of the blade, burning through its body, searing its insides, the creature falling to the ground with a gurgle, its body twitching, its eyes going dark, the light fading from them, the crown of bones clattering to the stone floor.
The cave erupted into chaos.
The goblins screamed, shrill and terrified, their cruelty turning to fear, to desperation, to panic, and they lunged for Hannah, for the others, their weapons raised, their claws out, their teeth bared, but it was too late. The avengers were here. The hunt was over. Now it was their turn to run.
Bart charged forward, his axe swinging in a wide arc, cleaving goblins in two, his roar loud and angry, a beast's snarl, as he cut through the horde, his only goal to reach the women, to free them, to get them away from the chains, from the pain, from the dark.
Mike loosed arrow after arrow, each one finding a mark, goblins falling to the ground, their bodies piling up, as he covered Bart, as he kept the goblins away from the women, as he made sure none of them could escape, none of them could hurt anyone else ever again.
Mimi stood back, her staff glowing, and she cast spell after spell—Aqua Barrier to block poison spears, Ignis Flicker to incinerate goblins that got too close to the women, Lumen Ignis to blind them,
to give the others an edge—her third-ring magic stretched to its limit, her mana fading, her head throbbing with the effort, but she didn't stop, not while the women screamed, not while the goblins fought, not while there was still someone to protect.
Hannah fought like a storm.
Dagger and magic, gold and steel, she cut through the goblins, her blade sinking into chests and throats and eyes, her golden Spark of Light blinding them, her Minor Mend patching up cuts and scrapes on the fly,
her body moving without thought, without fear, only rage, only the need to protect, only the need to kill, to make them pay for what they'd done, for the pain they'd inflicted, for the tears they'd caused.
Ren was with her, his presence a wild fire in her skull, his invisible claws raking at goblins, tearing their throats out, his fire incinerating them, turning their bodies to ash,
his magic merging with hers, golden and dark, a force the goblins couldn't stand against, couldn't fight, couldn't survive.
She was no longer just Hannah Benninton, the no-rank adventurer, the girl with a dagger and a dragon in her head. She was a monster. A hunter. A protector. An avenger.
Goblins fell around her, their blood soaking her clothes, her skin, her dagger, their screams dying into gurgles, their bodies piling up on the stone floor, a mountain of flesh and bone and grime.
She cut through them, one by one, no mercy, no hesitation, her golden magic burning bright, a beacon in the dark, a promise of death to anyone who hurt the innocent, who preys on the weak.
She reached the first woman—a red-haired girl with a scar across her cheek, her armor torn to shreds, her leg bleeding badly from a whip wound that split the flesh open to the bone—and she cut the chains with her dagger, the metal snapping under the sharp steel with a loud crack,
and she pulled the gag from her mouth, the cloth sticking to her lips with dried saliva and tears, and pressed her fingertips to her leg, a golden glow blooming, the Minor Mend healing the worst of the wounds, the flesh knitting back together, the bleeding stopping.
"Run," Hannah said, her voice rough, raw from screaming, her eyes fixed on the goblins still standing, still fighting.
"Get to the back. We'll cover you. Don't look back."
The girl nodded, tears streaming down her face, her mouth open in a silent sob, and she stumbled back, towards Mimi, who was casting an Aqua Barrier to protect her, to protect the others, the water wall glowing bright blue, a shield between them and the chaos.
Hannah moved to the next woman—a brunette with tired brown eyes, her arm broken at the elbow, the bone sticking out at an odd angle, her face covered in bruises from being hit with a club—and she cut the chains, pulled the gag,
her fingers gentle as she brushed the hair from the girl's face, and healed her arm with a golden glow, the bone mending under her touch, the flesh knitting back together, the pain fading from the girl's eyes, replaced by relief, by gratitude.
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To be continue...